


Villainous

by erintoknow



Series: Fallen Hero Sidestep AU Fanfics [9]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén
Genre: F/F, Fingering, Kissing, Lesbian Sex, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Snark, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Wrestling, soft?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-25 23:44:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20380108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erintoknow/pseuds/erintoknow
Summary: That gets a curious look from her and she puts down the radio. “Is that so?” Her focus zeros in on you, voice still light, papering over the question. “Should I be worried, Adelaide?”Still hasn’t given up on the nickname gag. You press your lips into a thin line, trying not smile. You don’t succeed. Navigate around the table as you talk, moving back to where she stands. “I don’t know, Heartbreak, you planning anything villainous?”





	Villainous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kinpika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/gifts).

> This was supposed to be blurb. instead it turned into six pages....
> 
> [](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/pseuds/kinpika)

The lock on the door stops the momentum. Forgot, forgot, damnit. Glance back at her, awkward smile under your mirrored helmet. She nods her head forward, and you catch the flash of amusement.

Once the door’s open you pull her in behind you. She locks the door while you bring the lights on. It’s a strange step, bringing a girl home to your secret lair in the back of a tech repair shop. You take off your helmet and leave it on the work table for later while she steps in a circle, taking it in. Searching out, what? Weak points? Exits?

You could find out, read the pattern in those silver fractals. As tempting as it might be, you always stop at the threshold. If she wants you to know, she’ll let you know. God knows, she’s never been shy about _that_.

“This is quaint. Cute.” She finally says. You huff as you comb out your hair, adjust the bobby pins now that you don’t need to keep it out of your face so much. “You’ve got a fake pile of computers to fix for cover. Nice.”

You shake your head, an awkward smile on your face. “Oh no, those are real repair orders.”

She’s in the middle of taking off her own helmet and pauses to arch an eyebrow at you. “You seriously waste your time with that?”

You shrug, spreading your arms wide. “The best cover isn’t cover.”

That gets a laugh. “Yeah, alright DJ Confucius.”

“I like the work.” You cross your arms, play up the pout a little as you stand in the middle of the room. “We can’t all be penthouse executives. What does your company even do?”

She taps her chin with a gloved hand, once, twice. “What was it… oh– Logos Security. Even got a catchy slogan. ‘Thinking of your safety.’”

“That’s real cute.”

She reclines back against the wall, hands behind her hand. “I try.” You can feel the smug satisfaction radiate off of her. “It’s hard work being the CEO _and_ the board of chairmen.”

You put a hand to your chest in mock sympathy. “Truly a difficult life.”

“The worst.” There’s that smirk under the flash of silver. She picks up an old radio set from the table in front of her, turning it over in her hands. “You break even on this?”

You cough into your hand, wince. “Not exactly…” You’d have to charge way more than you do. “But… I can always clean out some villain if money gets tight.”

That gets a curious look from her and she puts down the radio. “Is that so?” Her focus zeros in on you, voice still light, papering over the question. “Should I be worried, Adelaide?”

Still hasn’t given up on the nickname gag. You press your lips into a thin line, trying not smile. You don’t succeed. Navigate around the table as you talk, moving back to where she stands. “I don’t know, Heartbreak, you planning anything villainous?”

She meets your gaze, cool, a confident tug up at the edge her mouth. “I don’t know, maybe break a few hearts.”

You try to will yours to calm down. Don’t flinch. Don’t look away. “Th-that so?”

“You gonna do something about it?”

You’re getting awful close to her. Too close, your brain screams at you. “Should I?”

Well now you’re just stalling for time.

She glances down at the rest of your armor. “I’d like to see you try, Adelle.”

You blink, and she uses the opening to wrap her hand around the back of your head and pull you down and in for a kiss. A light peck of her lips against yours in a trial-run. You don’t pull back, instead dipping in again for a deeper kiss. Hands trace armor in echo of her silhouette.

When you break apart she’s smirking again.

“W-what?” You ask, curious, defensive. Doubt starting to filter back in. Unfounded or no, too easy to imagine all the ways this can turn bad.

“I wasn’t sure at first, but now I’m certain.” She snorts at the expression on your face, trying not to laugh. “Your little radio station up there,” She taps the side of your head. “You speed up when you’re… excited.”

You can feel the heat reach your ears. “O-oh.” You manage to say.

“No point getting shy now,” She giggles, shakes her head.“Adrianna, you are fucking _busted_.”

You’re so used to your mental wall you hardly think about it anymore. But she’s always liked listening in. For all the ribbing and the sass between the two of you, you’ve spent more than one outing at this point in a kind of faux silence. Cheat your own anxiety, sing without sining. Tune into a private channel no one else can hear.

So of course she _would_ notice something like that. Part of you just wants to sink through the cement and into the ground. She’s get her hands on you though, holding fast. Isn’t about to let you fall.

Her eyes flick towards the doorframe connecting the warehouse with the storefront proper. “This place open tomorrow? Anyone coming by?”

“N-no?” You hesitate, try to think back, double check. “I always keep the shop closed after missions.”

“Good.” The hand on your head drifts down your back. Oh. Okay.

You try to steady your nerves, breathing exercise. It’s just Logan Walsh, your fellow escaped, extremely dangerous, government-funded, crime-against-humanity. Nothing to be _scared_ of there. Don’t let your nerves get you; dive in, don’t look back. “I bet I– bet I can get you out of that suit; before you can get me out of mine.”

A look of surprise crosses her fair. Which, fair, you can’t believe you said that either. Surprise turns into an impish smirk. “Oh? Challenge fucking accepted.”

She pushes you back into the one the work tables, hands feeling for the clasps of your armor, pulling at the pieces. She may have gotten a head start, but you have the height advantage and manage to get her chest piece off first. After that things descend in to a strangest round of wrestling you’ve ever been in. Also the only round.

At point you manage to pin her on the ground, knees on either side of her hips. You get her gauntlet off and– She winks and brings her legs up under you, sweeps you to your side, rolling, and now you’re the one on the floor. That was fast.

She’s a lot more flexible than you anticipated.

By the time you’re reduced to just your skinsuit, she’s still got on one last gauntlet that’s evaded your grasp. A fact she doesn’t shy away from taunting you with a she sits on your stomach. “Who’s the best? This is _my_ base now.”

“Yeah. O–okay, you won.” There’s a tired grin on your face. “Don’t– don’t get carried away.”

“What? Like that wasn’t the point?” She bucks her hips against you to underline the question and you suck in your breath. Hold it there so you don’t embarrass yourself further. She practically broadcasts her satisfaction at your reaction, “You okay down there?”

You close your eyes. Doesn’t quite work. Can still feel her looking at you. The weight of her on your abdomen. “P–peachy. You?”

“Yeah. So.” She glances around the space. “Where do you keep the toys?”

You open your eyes again, stare up her with your face scrunched up. “Toys?”

“Uh, yeah? You know–”

“Oh! Toys like–” Your face burns, “Uh, I don’t–”

She sighs, shaking her head. “Oh honey, and you call yourself a villain? It’s the 21st century, get with the times grandma.”

You huff, avoiding her face.

“Honestly, I’m embarrassed _for_ you. Do we need to–woah!”

You grab her arm, pulling her down on top of you before rolling so now you’re the one sitting on top of her. Legs this time, so she can’t octopus her way out again. “We don’t– we don’t need that.” You huff. “It’s fine.”

She laughs, “Oh yeah? What, you hiding more rope in here somewhere?”

You bite your lip, “S-shut up!” You shift position, hand ghosting her hip. “D-d-do you want to or not?”

“You need a signed invitation?”

“It’d help!”

She opens her mouth for another jab. You’ve had just about enough of those so you lean in and cut her off with a kiss. Take the arms wrapping around your as invitation to touch her. A hand on her breast, the other on the curve of her hip. She pushes up into your touch. Breath in your mouth. “Help me out of this, lapochka?”

You heart skips, and she shoots you a knowing grin. “O–okay, uh–” The two of you peel her out of her skinsuit, letting her out from under you. And now she’s sitting on the floor next to you, bare skin and scars and bright orange tattoos.

It’s hard not focus on the way her breasts move as she shifts position towards you. She sees you looking, puffs her chest out. “Gay.”

You crack a smile, try not giggle. God you feel ridiculous. “Guilty.”

“Your turn now.” She moves towards you and it takes a second for you to commit to the jump, help her hands peel the thin black material off your skin. It doesn’t seem fair, how nudity only makes her seem sexier while you just feel exposed.A raw wire, hazardous. Too pale, covered in the ghosts of freckles that can never see the sun. You realize you must be broadcasting when her expression shifts. You look away from her, focus on the ground between the two of you. “S-sorry,” you say.

“You’re _fine_.” She picks up your hand and you shift in closer to her.

On impulse you lean in and at the last chance divert to kiss her shoulder. Take the touch of her free hand on your skin as permission to keep going. This’d be easier on a bed, or even a couch you have to admit. Less risk of giving each other a concussion.

Thoughts of IKEA furniture get rammed out your mind as your free hand dips a little too low and you freeze, look at her face. She looks back at you, radiating expectant frustration. You let your hand drift down further, between her legs, focusing on her face the whole time. Watch the moment where she shifts from staring you down to focusing on her body. Shift quickly to get your other hand behind her to hold her up before she risks falling back on the floor. The way her mouth parts ever so slightly as her brief quickens, the tinge of red in her face. It’s a stupid question, but you can’t stop yourself from asking: “You okay?”

She nods, eyes half closed. “Uh-huh.” Guess you must be doing something right. She pushes her hips forward, pressing into your hand. She closes her eyes as a shudder runs through her body, pressing hard against your hand. She mutters something under her breath fainter then you can understand.

You pull her in closer, let her lean against you. Less tiring to support with your whole body than just an arm. Bonus, it frees up that hand to stroke her hair. “I could… I could keep going.” She breathes into your earth.

“It’s– It’s a bad look if I get, uh, carpal tunnel from this.”

“That’s why you need some toys.”

You hiss, embarrassment flushing your face again. “Fuck you.”

“Wish granted, lapochka.”

You make a face. You don’t have a good comeback for that. Instead just listen to the sound of her breathing, the way it continues to change in response to your touch. Find yourself humming along, following the pace she sets.


End file.
